one-legged
people? And the sale lasts the whole week."

"Well, what of it?" asked Cherry, impatiently opening her book once
more; but Peace had scrambled up into the leafy retreat by this time,
and she thrust a ragged newspaper page into her sister's hands, crying,
"What of it? Why, Charity Greenfield, you were saying just this morning
that you'd have to have some new shoes pretty quick or go barefooted on
Sundays. How would you like that? And mine are 'most worn out, too."

"Well, I can't help it if we must have shoes. Gail says there won't be
any extra money this month. It took all she had to pay up Mike, so she
could let him go. Besides, this paper says they are canvas shoes. Those
wouldn't last us any time. Faith says we ought to have cow-hide--"

"Yes, that sounds just like her. She is always saying something cross.
She ought to be thankful that we don't wear our shoes out any faster.
S'posing we didn't have any summer so we could go barefooted, or
s'posing we had as many legs as a spider, and had to buy a dozen pair of
shoes each time. I guess _that_ would take money! Aren't canvas shoes
the things Nellie Banker had? Hers wore an awfully long time and she put
them on every day, too."

"Well, I don't see how that helps us any if we haven't got the money.
Cameron's Shoe Store is in Martindale, too. Where did you get this
paper?"

"I've been helping Mrs. Grinnell shell peas, and she dumped the pods
onto this scrap. When I saw 'shoes forty-nine cents,' I asked her if it
meant sure-enough shoes for that little, and she said it did, and that
any time we wanted to get things in town at a sale when she was going
in, we could drive along with her."

"But the money--"

"Can't we earn it? I heard Mr. Hardman tell the butcher that he needed
someone to help pick his late strawberries, and he'll pay five cents a
quart. We've often picked strawberries, and it isn't very hard
work--just hot and mon-mon--I can't think of the rest of that word."

"It's just as well," answered Cherry, with unconscious sarcasm. "'Twas
likely wrong anyway. Do you mean to say you would pick berries for Mr.
Hartman, when you hate him so?"

"Why not--if he will have us? His money is just as good as any other
man's, ain't it? Only he's mighty stingy."

"That's just it! I don't believe you heard him right. He'll never pay
five cents a quart for picking berries, Peace. Now, if it was Judge
Abbott or Mrs. Grinnell--Why, strawberries are cheap!"